Page 86 of Bound By Her

Seth’s muscles tensed beneath her hands. His jaw clicked shut.

“No. I just don’t like it when guys talk to women like that.”

A pause.

“Or grab them,” she added softly.

His gaze lifted to hers, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.

Adria nodded. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

Her hand still pressed against the gauze, but her fingers curled slightly, brushing his side. His skin was smooth beneath her fingertips, pale and warm.

She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. Probably still elevated from the fight. From the adrenaline. From the moment five minutes ago when he’d nearly slit a man’s throat.

A shiver rolled through her. Then another.

She let out a breathy laugh. “It isn’t even that cold.”

Seth’s brows knitted together. He covered her hand with his own, his touch solid, grounding.

“It’s the adrenaline,” he murmured. “Violence can be hard to see, especially when you’re not used to it.”

Her lips parted before she could stop herself. “No, I’ve been exposed to pl?—”

She cut herself off, realizing she was about to say too much.

Seth didn’t push. If he noticed, he let it go. Instead, he leaned into her, resting his head lightly against her shoulder.

“Thanks for patching me up, boss,” he murmured.

She felt the weight of him, solid and warm against her side. And God, she was sotired.

Slowly, hesitantly, she let her head rest against his.

His hair smelled like rain. Fresh and clean, despite the night’s chaos.

They sat there, holding each other up as the sun dipped lower, waiting for Eric.

Back at the house, Adria tried to sleep.

Tried, and failed.

She tossed and turned, the full moon casting shifting patterns across her ceiling, shadows dancing with the restless storm of thoughts in her mind.

Finally, she gave up.

Shrugging into a robe, she padded down the hall and pushed open Eric’s door.

His room was a study in discipline—plain, stripped of anything unnecessary. No decor, no distractions. Just a twin bed, an end table, a lamp, and a single chair. The adjoining bathroom led to a first-class workout facility, but that was as indulgent as he got.

She let the door slam shut behind her. “Well, that went about as well as a rock trying to fly.”

She expected to find him in bed. Instead, he stepped out of his closet, barefoot, wearing only black sweats.

His defined muscle, sharp lines and Punisher 6 tattoo were stark against his skin, just like the brand she’d put there herself.

Her gaze flicked up. His hair was damp, beads of water still clinging to his collarbone.

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